


More Than Words

by sekiharatae



Series: Behind Closed Doors [7]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, Romance, Smut, Under the Highwind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-24
Updated: 2010-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sekiharatae/pseuds/sekiharatae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night under the Highwind during the original game.  (Because every Cloud/Tifa fan has to write one?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Words

**Author's Note:**

> For a friend who variously requested (1) Night under the highwind; (2) First time for both Cloud and Tifa; and (3) Use of the phrase: "Death was likely only a sunrise away, but Cloud touched her as though they had all the time in the world."
> 
> Betas: The marvelous Sae, the awesome Ashfae, and the incredible Yuenmei. All of whom are probably glad I'll stop pestering them now.

_Words aren't the only way to tell someone how you feel._

The statement, at once both encouragement and advice, fell like a lodestone into Cloud's fumbling thoughts. She'd seen all of him - his doubts and fears, failures and hopes - while they were together in the lifestream, and it hadn't sent her shying away. Instead, they were closer now than ever before... he was closer to whom and what he'd always wanted than ever before. Would he let it slip away because of his inability to find the right words?

His boots made a shushing noise in the long grass as he stepped closer. "I've always been tongue-tied when it came to you," he admitted, the simple statement encompassing all of his verbal shortcomings. "But _this_..." reaching out he placed his hand on her shoulder, "what does this tell you?"

At the light but steady weight of his hand, the heat of him warm even through leather and fabric, Tifa released her held breath. Swallowed, as waning hope rekindled. "It says: I'm here." With her. For her.

"And this?" Touch light, he dragged his fingers down the length of her arm to twine with hers.

"That you're glad _I'm_ here." With him. For him.

Smiling slightly, he tugged gently to pull her closer, until her shoulder rested against his chest.

" _Really_ glad," Tifa amended, her voice sounding both nervous and eager. Cloud exhaled a soft laugh, releasing her hand to wrap both arms around her in a loose embrace.

"And this?" he prompted again, whispering the words into her hair.

Turning toward him, she let her arms slide around his waist, her cheek find the hollow of his shoulder. "Stay with me," she answered, closing her eyes as he bent closer, his chin resting on the top of her head. Until morning. Until the end. His hold promised that he'd cherish her and keep her safe for as long as she'd let him, but most emphatically it begged her: "Stay with me."

They stood like that for a long while, merely enjoying the closeness, something each had wanted since before the beginning of their journey across the planet, but which neither had managed to convey to the other. It had never been the right time or place or situation; other people, other concerns, other needs had always gotten in the way.

And even pressed close together, scarcely moving, he spoke to her. He held himself with a leashed tension that told her he wanted still more. The thumb stroking softly, soothingly over the tender skin at the nape of her neck whispered of indecision, the movement slowing as he gathered his resolve. When his hand shifted higher to cradle the back of her head she smiled, fingers tightening in his sweater to still their sudden trembling. "And that," she murmured, turning her face up at his careful urging, "says you're going to kiss me." The last word was breathed against his lips, her mouth open and waiting for the first, cautious press of his.

Cloud kept his touch light, letting her know he wouldn't rush her, that he planned to be sure she was ready and willing each time he took things a bit further. His palm shifted to cup the side of her face, thumb riding her cheek as he gradually increased the contact, until finally, after several heartbeats of teasing, glancing caresses and shared breath, his mouth settled firmly over hers. Although her lips were already slightly parted, he licked softly at them, coaxing her tongue to return the favor before delving inside. When his attentions produced a soft moan he retreated, waiting for her mouth to come in search of his before returning to nip carefully at her full bottom lip, starting the cycle of tease and retreat all over again.

Both were breathing heavily when finally she ducked her head to press her face against the base of his throat, sheltered by arms which had long since crept up to twine around his neck. At some point his hands had shifted to rest at her hips, holding her close enough that she could feel him, hard and ready, through the material of her skirt and his fatigues.

"Enough?" he asked, voice rough, bending his head to murmur the question in her ear. He'd stop if she wanted, but his thumbs rubbed beguiling circles over her hipbones, silently begging her to let him continue.

She shook her head, pressing closer to his solid strength as she gathered herself. The fingers of one hand moved to tease the short, downy hair at the back of his neck, just above his collar; her other fell to his chest, where she traced the lines in the knit of his uniform, feeling his heart beat marginally faster than was its wont. "Not enough," she answered, "just... more than I expected." As a teen she'd read novels where the heroine forgot to breathe when kissed by the hero, but she'd never believed it would happen in real life.

Certainly not in her life, not to her.

"First kiss?" he asked, brushing her hair back from her face, a faint hint of masculine smugness in his tone.

Tifa thought briefly of the eager but sloppy attempt Johnny had once made, the equally inept pecks a few of her more inebriated customers had tried to steal - most of which had failed to land anywhere close to her mouth - and decided that the satisfaction in his voice was deserved.

"First everything," she murmured, turning her cheek into his palm, trusting the sunset shadows to disguise the heat rising in her cheeks.

Cloud stilled. He'd only been teasing: pleased with his ability to make her forget herself, but never actually thinking the words were truth. As he stared at her, eyes wide, her lips curved in a slow, knowing smile.

"Surprised?" she asked, fingers sliding across his nape and earning a shiver in reaction.

"I'm... not sure." It was hard to believe that such a warm, beautiful woman had never had the opportunity to sample the opposite sex. At the same time, as sweet and giving as she was, there was also a shyness to her. He thought about her hesitant, abortive efforts to tell him how she felt during their 'date' at the Gold Saucer, and how she'd been waiting all this time for him to make the first move.

Maybe it wasn't opportunity that had been lacking, but inclination.

Watching the shadows in his eyes shift with his thoughts, Tifa could easily read the switch from amazement to understanding.

"Yes," he answered, fingers still lingering in her hair, "but only because you waited... only because you chose me."

After their promise, none of the other Nibelheim boys had ever seemed... right. Then he'd come to her rescue in the reactor - something she'd believed was only imagined until she saw the truth of it in his memories - and it was hard for anyone else to live up to that, no matter how many times she'd dismissed it as pure fantasy. Dream or not, she trusted the boy in her memory: he made her feel safe and relieved and warm and wanted. It was him for her, or no one.

But, "Don't let it go to your head," she told him, tugging at the shoulder strap over his heart for emphasis. Although his arrogant, untouchable, in-control SOLDIER persona had been incredibly sexy, she preferred the real Cloud: the one that was capable of sharing sweet, awkward, honest moments with her, and whose ego had been reined in to more modest proportions.

"I won't," he promised, even though his mouth was curved in a small half-smile. Rocking forward on her toes she touched her lips to that tell-tale quirk, then sighed when he immediately reciprocated. At length he shifted to ghost kisses over her cheeks, chin, and throat, before resting his forehead against hers. "First everything?" His voice was low and carefully uninflected, not pressuring or coaxing, merely asking.

Confirming.

The way he'd caught both of her hands in his, preventing any further touching on either part, spoke louder: did she want everything - right then, that night - or was there a limit? How far did she want to go, if kisses weren't enough? He'd give her as much as she wanted to take, and take whatever she was willing to give.

" _Everything_." Her reply was emphatic. Although the anxious knot in her stomach was slowly giving way to a different -- far more pleasurable - type of tension, she hadn't forgotten what they would soon be facing. No matter what happened when they went up against Sephiroth, she wanted to go into that fight knowing she hadn't backed away from this. From them, together. She'd wanted it for far too long. Since their failed date. Since she found him in the train station. Since before Nibelheim burned.

Straightening, Cloud stepped backward toward the shadow of the Highwind, their hands still linked, his head tilted in question. "You're certain? There'll be time again, later."

He said it with assurance, and she honestly couldn't tell how much, if any, of his confidence was forced.

Not that it mattered.

Squeezing his hands, she glanced at him through the fall of her hair, biting her lip in an obvious show of consideration before telling him bluntly: "Waiting is overrated."

When he smiled in return, she realized that he never really had before, not in all their time traveling. Oh, he'd sported smirks aplenty, and there was the cute, lopsided tilt that had recently seen use... but this was the first full _smile_. It wasn't wide or toothy, just... quietly, wholeheartedly, unguardedly _happy_.

Tifa found herself smiling back automatically. It was that infectious.

"You want to go back to the airship?" He took another backward step in that direction, leading her with him. There were beds of a sort in the crew quarters where they'd been sleeping - narrow cots, but better than nothing - or they could completely revert to their country upbringing and opt for the clean hay in the chocobo stable.

She followed after him a few steps further, until they entered a small hollow where the grass brushed her shins and the breeze was blocked by a rocky outcrop. "Here," she said, tugging him to a stop. "Under the stars, like the night we made our first promise." It was clear, the air mild, and the constellations just starting to appear as the watery orange of sunset faded gradually into the blue of evening twilight.

Blond brows raised high then dipped low, betraying first surprise then consideration. "It probably won't be as comfortable," he warned after a moment.

"Here," she reiterated. To further underline her choice, she dropped his hands and seated herself atop the protruding rock ridge to untie her boots.

"Stop-- _stop_ ," he protested, laughter and exasperation in the husky tone of his voice as he dropped to a crouch in front of her. "Stubborn," he accused, brushing her fingers aside to undo the laces himself.

"Cloud?"

He paused for just a second, then shook his head and tugged her right boot off, setting it aside but holding her foot in his hand. The sock was stripped just as efficiently, rolled into a small ball and tucked into the top of her shoe, before he let her heel slide to the ground to rest on cool, slightly damp grass. "Dew," he noted when she wiggled her toes to savor the feeling. "Our clothes will be wet in the morning if we're not careful."

"Don't care," she told him, watching as he repeated the process with her other foot. He was taking care of her, she realized belatedly, even though there was no real need. She'd had wet socks and a damp skirt on more than one occasion - probably would again - but it was sweet of him, just the same. Like the character he'd played at Gold Saucer, going down on one knee to take her hand - a memory that still made her heart flutter despite the silly romanticism of it - or the young Shin-Ra army grunt who'd tried so hard to protect her, back before everything went wrong in Nibelheim. "Cloud," she said, threading her fingers through his hair, "kiss me."

His head came up immediately, hands tightening where they rested around her calves. She leaned forward to meet him, sliding off the rock and into his lap when he tugged to bring her closer.

There was no longer anything tentative, slow, or languid about the press of his mouth against hers. Instead, he was hot and hungry. Demanding.

Addicting.

Sprawled in the grass, legs stretched out in front of him, Cloud let his hands find their way to her waist as she settled astride his thighs. The ends of her hair brushed over his fingers with the movement, prompting him to give a soft, impatient sound as he broke away to remove his gloves. With two swift jerks they were gone, tossed aside, and his bare hands were burying themselves deep in the dark chocolate mass, spreading the heavy, silken strands around her shoulders.

Tifa grinned at the almost relieved sounding groan that escaped him, her lips curving slowly beneath his.

"Wanted to do this forever," he murmured, removing the worn fabric tie from the dolphin-tail and tossing it in the general direction of her boots and his gloves.

"It'll get everywhere," she protested mildly, even as he gathered a handful and used it to urge her forward, until her chest rested lightly against his.

"Don't care," he repeated her earlier dismissal. He wanted it. Wanted to feel its softness against his skin, wanted to wrap its weight around his wrist, wanted to get tangled up and bound in its length...

Wanted to see it loose and wild around her when she came, the way he'd imagined far too many times.

Another low sound escaped in response to the mental image, his body arching of its own will into the softness of hers, hands at shoulder and hip to hold her close.

Tifa gasped softly at the feel of him, the fabric of his pants drawn taut from the press of her thighs to outline the hot, hard ridge of his erection. Even through their clothes, he seemed to fit against her perfectly. She'd explored her body enough to know how and where she liked to be touched, and the length of him had settled right _there_. A tiny little motion - just a wriggle of her hips to get closer - had them rubbing together in a way that was both new and familiar, the press of him less focused than the stroke of her fingers, yet more arousing.

"Good?" he asked, the word humming against her lips. When she nodded, he again took brief possession of her mouth before skating across her cheekbone to her ear.

A warm exhale had her shivering at the caress of his breath. A light nibble made her fingers and thighs clench. When he flicked her dangling earring with his tongue, then carefully nudged it aside to suck at her earlobe, her head fell back and her hips lurched.

Cloud drew in a long, slow breath, deliberately reining in his body's response. Tifa in his lap, pliant and aroused and welcoming, was the stuff of sexual fantasy; it pushed him inexorably toward the breaking point... and it was far too soon to lose control. He wanted this to _last_. His newfound, fledgling ego insisted this first time - his, hers, theirs - be memorable for all the _right_ reasons.

He wasn't sixteen and an overeager adolescent, but a full-grown man with a SOLDIER's stamina and a SOLDIER's restraint. Not to mention a memory full of suggestions and advice to offset the fact that he was every bit as inexperienced as she. It was disconcertingly like knowing how to drive while at the same time being uncertain how hard to press the gas or when to use the clutch.

Which was all the more reason he needed to take his time.

Sweeping her hair away from her face, he scattered fluttering kisses down the exposed length of her throat, mouth open to savor the taste of her: salt mingled with faint traces of carefully rationed vanilla soap and a sweetness that was inherently _Tifa_. She arched into the hot, wet caress of his lips and tongue; answered the light, nibbling scrape of his teeth with slight, restless movements that asked for more. Hands still bound in soft, silken strands gave it: one warm on the bare skin of her back, thumb rubbing back and forth just inside the hem of her shirt; the other open on the curve of her thigh, tracing faint, indistinct patterns as he slowly inched her skirt higher.

Fingers clenched in his hair and twisted in the fabric of his sweater, Tifa simply surrendered to the clamoring of her body, long starved for precisely this sort of attention. Cloud's explorations were light, testing, taking careful note of her every response. If the slightest touch of lips, teeth, fingers or tongue earned a reaction, he paused to investigate further, varying the contact until her body sang for him. Pleasure points of which she'd previously been unaware came to life, suddenly sensitive, adding to the steady welling of need and arousal deep inside. By the time his mouth had finished mapping the smooth skin of her neck and his thumb had found its way just inside the lace edging on her panties, her hips had taken up a slow but steady grind.

Reaching her shoulder, Cloud paused to playfully pop her suspender with his teeth, purposefully dispelling some of the tension rising between them, slowing things down for the sheer pleasure of building them up again. She jumped and gasped a soft, startled laugh, tempting him to do it again. Hooking a finger low in the thin black strap on the opposite side, he let the elastic snap lightly against her back.

"Cloud!" she scolded, even as his teasing relaxed something inside her, a nervousness she'd almost forgotten she felt. Mouth still pressed to the hollow of her shoulder he slanted her a look, eyes filled with the same glow they got whenever he was purposefully goading Yuffie or Barret.

Shaking her head she straightened, forcing him to do the same, before curling her hands around his biceps and pulling herself up the few inches needed to close the distance and kiss him. He gave a low, pleased sound at her taking the initiative - not asking or waiting but claiming what she wanted - and tightened his hold, fingers of one hand making shallow indents in the soft flesh of her thigh, while the palm of the other was a brand on the bare skin between her shoulder blades.

Her grasp tightened briefly in reaction, but a moment later she was pulling away with an irritated noise, fingers searching for the fastenings to his pauldron and shoulder straps.

"Tifa?"

"I know you're under all of this _somewhere_." His clothing - high necked sweater tucked neatly into pants, pants tucked neatly into boots, the whole secured with a leather harness - didn't seem to allow her access to anything but the bare skin of his arms, while hers allowed his hands to wander just about anywhere they pleased. With her fingers itching to explore and her whole body starting to yearn for the warm press of his, the disparity seemed completely unfair.

"Let me," he said, amusement rife in his tone, when she gave a little huff of frustration. Tifa wrinkled her nose and frowned at him but made no other protest, simply sitting back to watch as he removed the complicated collection of buckles and straps.

Except his fingers slipped from her hair to skim over her thin leather arm guards instead, hooking inside the cuffs of her gloves to drag them off. The forearm protectors fit more snugly, but he found the tiny zippers on the insides of her elbows and made quick work of those as well. The skin underneath was pale, a faint tan line around her biceps marking where long days in the sun had shaded her upper arms.

"Alright?" he asked when she shivered, the evening air cool after the tight clasp of leather and mesh.

"You're supposed to be helping me with these," she replied, ignoring the question to tug at his suspenders. Not that she wasn't glad to have her palms free to slide over his skin and the unexpected softness of his hair - something the look in his eyes said he already knew. Knew that she wanted to touch him as much as he'd wanted to touch her, and that he was quietly both thrilled and pleased by that awareness. Biting her lip against a smile, Tifa tugged again. "These. Off. How?"

The shoulder braces were fastened inside the wide belt around his middle, the one with the SOLDIER emblem. Rather than unhooking them, he unbuckled the belt and shrugged out of the suspenders, tossing everything aside. Absent the tight, heavy straps, his posture immediately relaxed. Without pause he then tugged his sweater out from under his waistband and over his head, dropping the wad of inside-out fabric in the grass beside them. Holding himself tensely, hand clenched in his discarded shirt, he waited for her reaction. Wanting - hoping - that she would like what she saw.

That touch of self-conscious worry was especially endearing considering even Yuffie - even _Nanaki_ \- could have told him he had no reason to be anxious.

The faint almond gold tan of his torso was the same as that on his face and arms, evidence of the time he'd spent shirtless against the heat in Gongaga and Costa del Sol. Then, Tifa had satisfied her fascination with swift, sidelong glances obvious to everyone but him; now, she openly looked her fill. He was beautiful but spare, the mako in his system having burned away any excess while honing his body to the perfect balance between form and function. Although nowhere near as large as Barret or even Vincent, he was still strongly built, possessing broad shoulders that tapered down to narrow hips and a lean, almost too-trim waist. Muscles that were well defined but not bulging delineated his arms, chest and belly.

His skin was warm under her touch, taut over sleek, toned planes. Resting her palm over his heart she could feel its strong, steady beat and the measured rise of his breathing, his flesh smooth under her searching fingers. The place where Sephiroth had run him through was unmarked, long-since healed through a combination of materia and mako therapy. Bending, she pressed a kiss there in silent thanks, and then a second just because she could. Giving in to an impulse to taste him - just a small flicker of her tongue, emulating the way he'd partaken of her - she delighted in the way his breath caught and his hands returned to her waist. Walking her fingers up his chest to his shoulders, she leaned all the way into him before slowly dragging her hands down his arms to learn the feel of him - all restrained strength and ready energy.

And all of him hers, because he wanted to be.

At the first brush of her hands Cloud sighed and relaxed, leaning back on his palms to let her explore. There was appreciation in the way her fingers skimmed over his chest; something heated in the way she looked at him that soothed his soul while further inflaming everything else. Closing his eyes against the pleasurable clenching low in his gut, he let his head fall back for a moment to simply _enjoy_. He could give them this, could be patient while she discovered all of him, the way he wanted to discover all of her.

Then her tongue darted out, painting a wet stripe in the center of his chest, and patience immediately became a trial.

Gritting his teeth he swallowed, both grateful and disappointed that she didn't lick him anywhere else, seemingly satisfied with simply letting her hands wander instead. Up his chest and over his shoulders, then finally down his arms in a single slow caress. When she reached his wrists, he pulled away to remove his bracers and strip away the bandages binding his left forearm.

Curious, she caught his hand, running her thumb over the sword callouses on his palm before sliding her fingers up along his arm. There was no wound or scar she could see or feel, his skin unblemished.

"My bracer was pieced together from armor and scrap I salvaged in the slums," he explained, watching her face carefully as his free hand reached out to catch her suspender between two fingers and stroke lightly up and down its length, "some of it rough edged. The bandages keep it from doing more harm than good." Tetanus wasn't really a risk for him, but there was no reason to put up with the constant discomfort of raw, healing skin.

She nodded absently, distracted by the way the backs of his fingers were brushing gently up and down the side of her breast. One long digit grazed her slightly puckered nipple and she caught her breath; on the next pass it circled lightly over the entirety, and her fingers, still curled loosely around his wrist, abruptly tightened. Resting his head against hers, he sifted his fingers through the hair framing her face, following the long strands down to where they were draped over her shoulder and chest. Together they watched as he gently cupped both breasts in his palms, heat slowly seeping through the fabric of her shirt and bra as his thumbs began rubbing softly back and forth over the sensitive peaks. The feel of it was... different. Almost ticklish, but pleasant and arousing at the same time, increasing the ache between her thighs.

Cloud unconsciously licked his lips, his erection tightening almost painfully at the sight of her nipples hard and evident through her clothes. Her hands had slipped from his wrist to lock together at his nape, and her eyes were closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed.

For him. He'd done that to her - carefully learning what her body liked and how to give it.

Sliding his hand around to rest over the back closure of her bra, he waited a few heartbeats to give her time to protest, to change her mind or ask him to go slower. When she artlessly leaned closer, giving him a better angle, he undid the three hooks in quick succession, fumbling only slightly with the unseen and unfamiliar fastenings. Sitting up she shrugged out of her suspenders, her hands joining his in pulling both shirt and bra up and over her head.

Like her forearms her chest was pale, a blurred line across her tummy marking where her shirt normally fell. In the growing dusk the tips of her breasts were a faded pink, and without her bra the soft mounds were larger, filling his splayed fingers. When he squeezed them gently, experimentally, Tifa gave a low, throaty whimper.

He pulled back immediately. "Did I hurt you?"

" _No!_ " Cheeks flushed, she caught one of his hands between hers, pressed his palm back against her where it belonged. "It..." her voice was soft, a bit shy, "it felt - feels - nice." More than nice. The touch of his strong, calloused fingers was so much better than the tight clasp of her bra, so much better than merely _nice_. "Don't stop."

Mollified, he resumed his careful massage, fingers alternately tightening and relaxing in lazy circles. She sighed, eyes sliding closed and head tilting to the side in enjoyment... and impulsively, without pausing to think, he dipped his head to take her nipple in his mouth.

If the stroke of his fingers had felt good, then the hot, wet press of his lips and tongue was incredible. Gasping his name she came up on her knees to get closer, her hands sliding over his arms and into his hair, holding him so tightly that the bare skin of his throat was warm against her ribs and the inner curves of her breasts. Watching him from beneath her lashes, his expression reverent, she thought he looked far too peaceful to be making her feel so wanton. Firm suction and soft swirls of his tongue caused a hungry twisting deep inside, one that was echoed by the urgent seeking of her hips. She didn't want him to stop - never wanted him to stop - but with every nibble, every lick, the restless, needy feeling grew, and it wasn't _enough._ It was too decadent, too slow, feeding her pleasure in too-small bites: she'd go mad before she had her fill.

Hands cupping her bottom, Cloud held her steady as he shifted from one breast to the other, excitement fizzing through his blood and hazing his thoughts. Above him, Tifa gasped or sighed or whispered his name, trembling as he dusted airy kisses around one ruched peak; when he licked a slow circle around it, her grip on his hair tightened almost to the point of pain. "Shhhh," he murmured, dragging his hand across her hip to rest, palm open, on the skin of her stomach, fingertips just brushing the underside of her breast. It was a calming, soothing gesture, one that betrayed how touch-addicted he was with respect to her. Pressing a kiss to her navel, he tilted his head to meet her drowsy-eyed gaze.

Tifa's arm felt heavy as she reached out to let her fingertips map his familiar features, her touch skating lightly over his eyebrows, down his cheeks, to the stubborn, angular jut of his chin. When her index finger found the corner of his mouth and traced his lips, they parted just enough for his tongue to flicker out and lave the tip before drawing it inside. Mouth working in long, slow pulls, he soon had her hips lurching fiercely against him, hard enough that he could feel her belt buckle pressing into his sternum. Breath hissing out between his teeth, he curled his fingers around her waistband to tug her back down against him, his length hard against the ache between her legs.

For a moment it was sheer relief. Head back, mouth open, fingernails digging shallow crescents in his shoulders, she savored the sudden shock of contact there where she most needed to be touched. Then the steady, continuous clamor for more reasserted itself, her body demanding he finish what he'd started with his focused, attentive explorations. He'd laved and stroked and adored to their mutual delight, raising her desire to a fever pitch... and now she needed relief. Straightening, she let her hands slip slowly down over his chest and stomach, the muscles there flexing and stretching involuntarily in reaction, until her fingertips brushed cotton and glided over leather to rest on either side of the bulge in his pants. Pausing, she gulped air, her heartbeat suddenly loud, and lifted her gaze to meet his.

Cloud stared back, fascinated. Her eyes were a deep solid brown, their unique cinnamon color lost to desire and the growing dark, slightly glassy with arousal. Cheeks flushed and hair disheveled, nipples plump and erect, chest heaving... this was Tifa as he'd only imagined her, as only he would see her. _His_ Tifa. Swallowing, Adams' apple bobbing at the base of his throat, he couldn't resist arching into the press of her hands, groaning when her fingers rubbed over the ridge of his fly. _Ifrit_ he wanted them on his skin, not separated by fabric, not teasing him with too-brief touches while she fumbled with the fastenings at his crotch. Still, determined to let her go at her own pace, he closed his eyes and sank down flat on his back, hands in loose fists as he waited for her to make the next move.

Seeing him half naked and rampantly aroused, Tifa thought him impossibly both sexy and adorable. Endearingly so, with his hair more tousled than usual and a little furrow of concentration between his brows - Cloud, who was normally far from expressive. Every few breaths his fingers twitched in the direction of his belt buckle, betraying how badly he wanted her to continue, how difficult it was for him to wait.

He needed her. Wanted her. And the effort he was taking to make sure she was not only willing, but ready and eager, made her toes curl and her heart clench.

"Cloud," she whispered, hooking a finger under his belt and tugging the end loose, "help me."

It was all the encouragement he needed. His fingers joined hers, working to unbuckle the top belt while she did the same for the second; she pulling the zipper down after he popped the snap at the top. Underneath the open placket, dark cotton outlined every aroused inch of him, ready and waiting. Trailing a single finger down his length, barely touching, she was rewarded with a low groan and an abortive jerk of his hips.

 _Tease_ , the quirk of his lips and the shake of his head warned when she did it again, even as the mako in his eyes sparked with humor and something else - something that made her stomach flip-flop and her pulse race. Twining his fingers with hers, he slid their joined hands down inside his underwear, cupping her palm over his erection until she was gripping him gently but firmly. For three swift strokes he directed her movement, showed her how best to touch him, then his fingers withdrew to let her guide her own explorations.

Hot and silk-sleek, he was thick and heavy in her hand, roughly twice as long as the width of her palm. Tentatively curling her fist loosely around his length caused it to bob and flex in her hold, and she automatically tightened her fingers - not squeezing, just... not letting him get away. Slowly at first, but gradually picking up tempo, she let her fingers glide up and down the smooth shaft, the repeated motion soon having his legs shaking with faint, involuntary tremors. Leaning forward, she rested her free hand low on his belly as if to hold him still, splaying her fingers for leverage.

 _So. Good._ Tifa's hands were soft, her careful touch radically different from the brusque stroke of his own sword-calloused palm. Having someone else do this was both the same as and different from doing it himself. More exciting, because it was _her_. Better, since the pace and twist and pump of her hand were out of his control. Infinitely more effective, the rush of pleasure the same but more intense.

Too intense.

And he wasn't going to waste their first time by spilling in her _hand_.

Wrapping his fingers around her wrists he gently pulled her hands away, gritting his teeth at the last lingering slide of her thumb over the head of his erection. A moment later he rolled to the side, taking her with him, coming to rest with her flat on her back, head and shoulders pillowed on their discarded clothing. Braced above her on one hand, the other around her wrists to still her explorations, he settled between her spread legs, letting her take just enough of his weight to be aware of him everywhere they touched.

The way he was aware of her and the unfocused shifting of her limbs, the accelerated beat of her heart, and the heady scent of her arousal: spicy, sweet, and suddenly _stronger_.

Simply because he was holding her in place, stilling her motion until he wasn't so close to the edge.

Ironically, the realization alone was almost enough to make him come, without any further stimulation at all.

The grip Cloud had on her wrists was firm, his arms and shoulders bracketing her head, while his weight gently but definitely pinned her beneath him. On a purely instinctual level, it felt dangerous: he could easily hurt or force her if he chose. On an intellectual, emotional one, Tifa knew that he never would, that she was perfectly safe. The combination was heady and exciting, and her body responded with a will and urgency of its own. She _needed_ : pressure, contact, friction. Bending her knees she parted her thighs further in an attempt to get closer; when it wasn't enough, she tugged against his hold, moaning his name in protest.

Dark hair a shadow on the ground around them, her body writhing with hungry demand, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Moreso than that first glimpse of blue sky after four years in Hojo's lab, a thousand times more erotic than anything else in his memory.

And the way she said his _name_...

He'd known for years what the sight of her could do to him, had learned during their journey how even a single glance or innocent touch from her could have the same effect. But he'd never imagined she would undo him in so many ways - take away his ability to think, fray his patience and poke holes in his tenuous control with only a single syllable.

Releasing her wrists, he trailed his hand down her arm and over her breast, pausing to circle her nipple with feather-light fingertips. She shivered and made a soft, wordless sound of want, her hands again finding purchase on his shoulder and in his hair. Dipping his head he took her mouth, giving her more of those long, drugging kisses as his hand traced its way down her side, over her hip, and lower. Shifting his weight he followed the hem of her skirt to her inner thigh, his knuckles sliding along the arousal-sensitive flesh as they slowly inched higher.

Overheated and trembling slightly, Tifa broke away, pressing her forehead to his shoulder and biting her lip in anticipation. He nuzzled her temple and rubbed his thumb over the damp skin of her thigh in brief, soothing reassurance. Although the gesture was tender, she didn't need further coaxing: she was beyond anything but want and the need for him to hurry. Arching into the press of his hand, shy but demanding, she held her breath and waited for the first brush of his fingers over her core. When it came it was light but not hesitant, merely testing.

The thin cotton fabric between her legs was sodden. Cloud's balls drew tighter at the discovery, a groan escaping to join her gasping cry. Pressing three fingers firmly against the top of her slit, he rubbed in lingering, massaging circles, and was rewarded with the clenching of her fists as she attempted to part her legs further, straining the seam on her skirt. Feeling the leather stretch taut across the back of his hand he withdrew, unbuckling her belt and unzipping her skirt in reply to her cry of protest. As he began easing both it and her panties down her legs, she gripped his shoulders for leverage and obligingly lifting her hips to help with their removal. Naked, she had no time to even consider being embarrassed before he was back, stretched out beside her, balanced on hip and elbow, his arm slipping under her neck to cradle her close.

Cupping his hand behind her knee, he lifted her leg up and over his own, exposing her to his curious eyes and avid touch. Dragging his palm down the inside of her thigh in a slow caress, he lightly brushed his fingertips over dewy curls, gently parted her slick folds to trace over nerve endings desperate for the attention. Teasing the opening that was hot and wet and eager for him, he bathed his fingers in her welcoming moisture, then sought out the swollen nub at the top of her slit. He was careful, never having done this before, as he worked to find the right rhythm and pressure to make her come. Eyes on her face, he watched for signs of either discomfort or pleasure; took his cues to go faster or vary his touch from the way her body shifted and her legs trembled. He was focused, as if giving her an orgasm was the most important thing he'd ever done.

And in a way it was.

As much as he wanted to be inside her - to know what that felt like, to have her come apart around him as he lost control -- he wanted even more to be sure she enjoyed her first time. To have her burn and explode and be ecstatic, if just for a little while.

Eyes closed, Tifa concentrated on the building sensations, release close yet not quite within reach. At first having her pleasure out of her direct control had been almost as awkward as it was arousing. Cloud's touch had bordered on tentative, the motion of his fingers far too slow - as if he were learning her body, waiting for some sort of signal from her to tell him what she liked. Wanting faster, she'd circled her hips and was gratified when he took the hint and sped up; needing a stronger touch, she'd wrapped her fingers around his wrist, pulling just enough to encourage the pad of his middle finger to stroke firmly rather than teasingly over her clit. Better still, he gave her the weight of his palm: a warm steady pressure over her mound that she hadn't known she was missing until it was there.

And now, it was anything but awkward. It felt... right. Amazing. _New_. She was so, so close to that last, climactic rush; and the tension gathering low in her belly was stronger, higher, outstripping anything she'd ever done to herself, her body somehow making her work for what she was accustomed to having easily, with little effort.

Legs quivering, hips making small fits and starts, her grasp on his wrist so tight both his skin and her knuckles were white, her entire body strained for release. Gasping for breath she tossed her head, voicing a wordless plea somewhere between a moan and a whine. Realizing she needed something more to push her over the edge, he bent and took one prominent nipple between his lips, sucking gently, using the same treatment that had made her buck into him before.

_Yes._

_"Clou-ou-ou-oud!"_ The single syllable was drawn out with each pulsating burst of pleasure as she came, her voice just barely less than a scream. Thighs clamping shut around his hand she arched her back and succumbed, fingers fisting on air from the intensity.

And it went on and on. Meteor must surely have come and gone before she finished.

Slowing but not stopping the motion of his fingers, Cloud raised his head to watch as she came down, taking in her all-over-body flush and the way dark strands clung to sweat-tinged cheeks and shoulders. When she mewled and then slapped lightly at his hand - without first unclenching her legs - he laughed, low and completely pleased, but took it to mean she'd had enough for the moment.

Easing his arm out from behind her head, he brushed his mouth over her parted lips before sitting up, reaching to unzip and remove his boots while she caught her breath. Barefoot, he rose up on his knees to shed his pants, then paused, hands digging deep in his pockets in search of his wallet and the condoms an over-protective Barret had forced on him back in Midgar.

"You don't need them," Tifa murmured, voice husky. She'd been watching him from under her lashes, too relaxed to move from her warm, comfortable position beyond a slow stretch. "We're safe." Shortly after finding him again -- before everything had gone spiraling out of control -- she'd gotten a six-month shot, hopeful that their relationship would become reality and not just wishful thinking. He arched his eyebrows in silent question, foil packet in hand, but when she shook her head he let it go, accepting her word and her choice.

Shedding his remaining clothing in a few swift moves, he kicked his pants away and shifted to kneel between her legs. Leaning forward he braced his hands on either side of her head, balanced just far enough away that she could feel the heat of him like a thin, insubstantial blanket covering her from collarbone to groin.

His stillness asked if she was sure, his thumb stroking lightly over her bottom lip in silent avowal that it would be alright between them either way. Her arms wrapping around his neck offered trust, while bent knees and the feel of slender feet sliding along his calves told him she wouldn't be changing her mind.

Lightly calloused fingers slid down her body, searching between her legs to find the place that waited to be taken. One long digit circled her opening and then slid slowly inside, setting up a careful rhythm of thrust and retreat. His hands were larger, his fingers thicker than hers, and the sensation was both fuller and more satisfying than the few times she'd experimented while touching herself. After a few moments, when she moved in answer to his slow, shallow thrusts, he added a second finger, stretching her further, and let his thumb press lightly over her clit. Her response was immediate, hands clenching around his arms as she keened, head back, the sound raw and needy. The ache inside had been eased but not assuaged by her earlier orgasm... and was growing with every smooth, gliding stroke of his hand.

Soon, three of his long fingers were stroking strongly in and out, her hips rising in tandem. Opening eyes she hadn't realized were closed, she found him watching her intently, his pupils rimmed with a green that sparked against the midnight blue of his irises. Although banked, the heat and need fueling the electric hue were startling in their intensity, setting her heart to pounding with her own excitement. She breathed his name, fingers sliding into his hair to pull him down to her, his chest flush against her breasts as she kissed him. Her tongue thrust between his lips the way his fingers filled her core, conveying a wealth of urgency and acceptance.

Scant minutes later his fingers left her empty, wanting, until the head of his cock rubbed through her moisture, gliding briefly over her clit before slipping lower to rest just inside her opening. Her nails bit lightly into his shoulders as he pushed forward, his hands holding her steady as he filled her with a single long thrust.

The feel of her around him was unlike _anything_. It was tight and wet and hot, but none of those came close to an adequate description. Although her hand had felt fantastic, even that couldn't compare: this was everywhere at once, her body clinging as if it needed him, had been made for him, and even _breathing_ seemed to cause enough friction to drive him insane. Gritting his teeth he resisted the urge to move, while silently pleading with Tifa to give him a sign that he could.

There was no pain, just a slow stretch accompanied by the sensation of being over-full, and as the stretched feeling gradually faded, the hungry ache she'd long associated with arousal began to ease. Always, even after release, there had seemed to be something missing, something more her body craved. Thoughts of Cloud had made it both better and worse, and now she thought - maybe - she knew why.

Anxiety dispelled by both the lack of pain and the renewed expectation of pleasure, her tight grip eased, her entire form relaxing, allowing him to settle slightly more flush against her. Open-mouthed he scattered wordless promises over her neck and shoulders, the upper curves of her breasts; and she responded with tiny, restlessly entreating gyrations. Only then did he begin to move, carefully pulling back almost to the point of complete withdrawal before thrusting forward just as cautiously. Even though his shoulders and arms were tense, betraying the edge to his need, the pace he set was patient, giving her body time to adjust, for fullness and friction to merge into something altogether amazing. For years he'd wanted to be exactly where he was; now he strove with all his body's eloquence to tell her how much she meant to him.

He touched her as though they had forever. As if the world weren't scheduled to end tomorrow. As if his body hadn't already set a deadline, one that was approaching faster with every motion of his hips.

Before long he was unable to resist speeding up, his strokes becoming faster, more forceful, his voice rising to groan her name when Tifa wrapped her legs around his waist and clung. Her walls clenched around him on the next downstroke, the head of his shaft hitting just the right spot more by accident than design, and she held him even tighter, angling her hips to make sure he'd do it again and again.

"Please. Please, Tifa. Please please please please please..." unaware he was chanting the word through clenched teeth, Cloud struggled to keep his pace from degenerating into uncoordinated lurching, to remember anything that might make it better still, that would let her come before he did. Rocking forward on his palms he ground down with each thrust, his pubic bone rubbing against her clit and pushing her higher.

In the end, it didn't matter. He broke first, and it was the jerking of his shaft and the uncontrolled trembling of his body all along hers that made her tumble after... but it was close enough to perfect for both of them. Afterwards he collapsed, keeping the bulk of his weight on his arms and legs but burying his face in the fall of her hair, his cheek against her throat. Her limbs gradually released their desperate hold, legs sliding bonelessly from around his waist, hands opening to rest limply against his back. When his arms somehow shifted to curl around her shoulders in a loose hug, she turned her head to rest her lips against his nape, basking in the feel of being together, warm and sated. Exhausted.

Eventually, after their breathing had returned to normal and the sheen of sweat along his spine had long since cooled, Cloud levered himself up on his elbow beside her. Blue eyes alight with a soft, tender glow - one that had nothing to do with mako, and everything to do with emotion - slid over her features, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small, pleased smile. It was a look she'd seen once before, back in Nibelheim, the night she'd made him promise to be her hero. Palm a light weight against his chest, Tifa smiled back even as she shivered, the air suddenly cold without his body sheltering hers.

Of course he noticed. Sitting up he reached to pluck her skirt and panties from the discarded pile of their clothing. Nightfall obscured his features, moonlight silvering his hair white in a gray landscape, but she could still discern the questioning tilt to his head and the teasing edge to his smirk as he offered them to her. Laughing, she snatched them away and began to dress, finding the experience to be strangely more personal, less methodical, with him watching her every move. As she smoothed the leather up around her waist and hips, Clouds fingers came to help work the zipper; when she slipped her arms through the straps on her bra and turned her back, he willingly fastened the tiny hooks. Fully clothed, she perched on the same outcrop she'd used before, finger-combing her hair as she watched him settle the SOLDIER harness and pauldron across his shoulders. Joining her on the rock, he offered her the length of bandage to wrap around his forearm, his low voice appreciative of the care she took in doing so.

It seemed natural, then, for his arm to settle around her shoulders, for her head to find the hollow of his. For his fingers to thread through hers, palm warm against the back of her hand, their gloves the only thing both had set aside to don later. Closing her eyes she relaxed against him, enjoying the languor that filled her after the frantic urgency of their coming together, savoring how safe and peaceful it felt to sit there beside him. Dipping his head he pressed a soft kiss to her temple, lips lingering as if poised to tell her a secret.

"You're my first everything, too," he murmured, the hand at her shoulder toying with her hair. Opening her eyes she looking askance at him, and he cleared his throat, suddenly resembling nothing so much as his younger, shyer self. "First and only," he added.

It took her a moment to realize what he was trying to say. "But--" she began, and then cut herself off, unsure how to phrase her confusion. While certainly no Genesis Rhapsodos, he hadn't seemed uncertain about what to do, either.

He shifted uncomfortably, as if he'd expected her doubt. "I _was_ friends with Zack," he reminded her, "he gave me lots of advice." Which was true as far as it went, if not exactly the whole story. " _Lots_ of advice," he repeated when she continued to stare. Reaching up he rubbed his hand over the back of his head in a familiar gesture of embarrassment. "I just wanted you to know." Caught up in his confession, he didn't notice her eyes going soft and wide.

"Cloud," she whispered, slim fingers sliding along his chin and turning his face to hers, "I believe you."

And then she kissed him.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything on the gondola," he abruptly announced long moments later, the words soft but blunt and heartfelt.

Laughing, she threw her arms around his neck and held him tight, felt him lean into her, letting her take some of his weight.

"Stay with me," he whispered into her hair, a promise and a plea.

Until the morning. Until the end.

Her answer didn't need words. She would be there, through the night and after.


End file.
